


Tainted Souls

by Castianayiana



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Companions, Deep Roads, Depression, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Talking Darkspawn, Tea, The Calling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 10:37:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15604458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castianayiana/pseuds/Castianayiana
Summary: A series of on-shots that show the building trust and friendship(and eventual love) between Solona Amell and the Architect.This story is related to my other story, Tainted Spirits.





	Tainted Souls

**Author's Note:**

> Please note, that English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistake you might find!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this story!

They did not speak a lot. Not at the begining at least.

He was creepy and a darkspawn at that. But Solona made a deal with him, and it was her responsibility to make sure he actually stick to their bargain, instead of going off and creating a new sentient, crazy Broodmother. She had to keep an eye on him, and for that, she needed to understand what he was doing.

It started with talks about magic. The Architect explaining his research to her, general discussions about how blood magic could be used for anything else, than what the Chantry warned againts. Solona wanted to keep it short and straight to the point, but the scholar in her took over.

First Enchanter Irving used to tell her, that she was his quietest apprentice outside of class and the chattiest inside. She never made a lot of friends in the Tower exactly because of that. She did not like to talk, unless people asked her questions, and even then she was hesitant. Did people really want to hear what she had to stay, or were they just polite? She never talked a lot, too afraid to bother the other person with her ideas.

But in class… Oh, she loved to ask questions. _„What you want to ask might be a stupid question, but if you never ask them, you will simply remain a fool!”_ – her father used to say. And she lived by those words. She drilled her teachers until every answer made sense. She loved to learn.

And that love for learning was what made their talks so much _fun_ now with the Architect. He knew things about blood magic, and the taint, that maybe not even Avernus did. Solona never dared to ask about blood magic in the Tower. She had more survival instinct than that. But now… Who was there to judge her?

So she poured all her questions at the Architect. Not because she liked him of course. But she craved the knowledge he had, asking her next question almost before he finished his explanation. A lot of bad things could be said about the Architect, but he was a patient teacher and gave a great deal of thought to her every question.

Once the skeleton of his work was understood, they ventured off to theories. In the Tower, there were certain practices, rituals accepted by the Circle, that had to be followed. Either because of tradition, or because one of the teachers didn’t accept any other. Solona always hated when they shot her ides down because it was _not the way._

The Architect on the other hand humored her, and they started to have side projects next to his research where they explored random thoughts. She felt giddy as a child, even as one of those little projects exploded in their faces. You could learn so much, even from a failed experiment after all.

„I wish there was some tea down here. Elfroot tastes more bearable if you can mix it in something”she said, as she was preparing to down a healing potion. The explosion took her by surprise, and her barrier came a second too late to prevent injuries. „And I miss tea…”

The last part was muttered only to herself, but the Architect must have heard, because a few weeks later, when she was about to leave the laboratory, he stopped her by placing a steaming stone mug in front of her.

„You mentioned you missed tea the other day. There are not many plants down here, but I tried to make one for you. Hopefully this experiment will be a better succes than our last one.”

Solona chukled and took the ancient dwarven mug in her hands, and took a whiff. It smelled amazing. Or maybe she only thought that, because it did not stink of rot and decay, like everything else in the Deep Roads.

„That’s… surprisingly thoughtfull of you. I appreciate it” she smiled at him, while he took a seat opposite of her, and poured from the tea as well. Solona knew it did not escape his attention that she did not take a sip, untill after he did.

„You are most welcome.”

They sat in silence for a while, enyoing their tea. It had a rich, smoky flavor. Solona wished that she had some honey for it.

„Were you a regular tea drinker before?” 

„Yes. The water was never the cleanest in the Tower, so to not get dehydrated, we used to make tea out of it instead. When I left, it was a habit that helped me get through all the changes suddenly happening in my life.”

Unexpected images floated in her mind. Wynne helping her boil the water, Leliana and Morrigan bickering on what tea leaves to have for the night. Zevran telling a made up story about some poor tea shop owner, who helped him after an assasination-gone-wrong where he lost his clothes(again). Alistair observing how having cheese after dinner would be much better than tea. Oghren pouring alcohol in his mug, and Sten quietly enjoying his brew.

„Are you allright? I hope I did not make it poorly.” Solona blinked away the traitorous tears from her eyes at the Architect’s voice. She felt ashamed.

„The tea is amazing thank you”she hesitated, then added. „I was just remembering.”

„Of? If you deem me worthy to share it with of course.”

_Of my friends._

„My old companions.” They left her. They were not her friends, only people who helped her defeat the Blight. She thought they liked her, that she finally managed to make lasting friendships – something that she always had a trouble with in the Tower -, but once the peril was over, all of them left. Oh they made offers for her to join them on their journeys, promises to keep in touch, but none of them stayed with her. None of them helped her fill the sudden void in her after the Blight.

What was she supposed to do? All her life she was imprisoned in the Circle, and when she got out, she was bound by duty to defeat the Archdemon. And then it was over, and she was supposed to… To do what exactly? She did not know how to live a life where you were free to choose your doings.

After all she has done for them, all the help, all the listening, they just left. None of them helped her overcome her fears to travel without a reason. Could she have really gone to Orlais with Leliana, hidden from the Crows with Zevran? Or would they have hunted her down as an apostate? If she went to Seheron, would they have made her a Saraabas? How could she prove she was a Grey Warden so they do not fear her as a potential evil mage?

 _She did not know!_ And her thought-to-be-friends all ignored her concerns, and plainly left her behind.

„You feel as if they have betrayed you.”

The Architect’s quiet voice spooked her, and she realized that tears were streaming down her face, and she was not just thinking those words, but sobbing them out. Shame filled her so strongly, she almost vommited. She should not have shown weakness. Noone liked crying people.

Not that she wanted the Architect to like her obviously…

„Yeah well, I was the one with the wrong expectations. It’s my fault”she put the mug down, the tea too cold now to drink. „It’s nice of you to listen to me, but I have kept you from your work too long. I am going to catch a bit of sleep.” She was almost at the door when he spoke again.

„Did you ever tell them about your worries? Not just then, but… before, during the Blight?”

„Of course not!”she exclaimed. „They were following me! I was their leader, and they expected me to have an answer to everything. I read enough to know, in times of peril, people need a hero who gives them hope. Not takes it away by worrying about every single aspect of their travel.”

„A hero is still a person at the end of the day.”

Solona’s chest and eyes were burning from holding back her sorrow.

„They never asked”she whimpered.

That was not exactly true. All of them made small inquires about Solona, but she was always afraid to tell them the truth. She was afraid that if she was anything else, but strong and capable, they would leave her – or worse, put her back in the Circle Tower – and find someone else to help save the world. And in those few precious moments, when she was inclined to share her real feelings, she always hesitated too long, and her companions filled the silence. Solona wondered if they cared so little about her, or if they were being kind, maybe thinking she was shy to share personal details. She wanted to believe the second.

„Warden-Commander”she turned back from the door, where she was resting her forehead. The Architect was still sitting, holding up the long forgotten tea in his hands. „There are some easy tricks to heat up the tea again. Maybe you could even tell me what is that Tower, that you mentioned so often.”

Solona almost gaped at him, and then realized what he was doing. Not just letting her know he will not speak of this again unless she wants to, but also reassuring her, that he is interested in listening to her. Even if it was as a simple thing as where she was from. It was something that she used to do to her companions. It was Solona’s way of trying to understand them, and gain their friendship.

Solona’s eyes widened. Was that what the Architect was doing? Trying to be her friend? She hesitated for a moment, then walked back to the chair she left. Truth be told, the Architect seemed to genuinely care, _and_ she craved the attention.

Hours later, Solona lay down to sleep with the knowledge that she might not die alone in the Deep Roads without a friend after all.

They never had another evening without tea again.

**Author's Note:**

> It always bothered me, that beside the Love Interest, no one really stays with the Warden at the end. Sooo yeah, the Architect plays the part of a psychologist here a bit.  
> I hope this was not too dark for your liking. I just think that for someone to be able to like/love the Architect, needs to have a similarly broken soul than he does. 
> 
> Let me know if you liked the story by leaving a kudos or comment behind :) 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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